The Stained Glass Door
The house arrived overnight.
At least, that’s what the townspeople said.
One day, the lot beside the old lumber mill was empty. The next, a tiny house sat there, its warm lanterns glowing against the cold dusk sky. The structure itself was peculiar—dark green paneling, deep brown wood trim, and most mesmerizing of all, a stained-glass window above the door that seemed to shimmer even without sunlight.
No one had seen anyone build it. No trucks, no workers.
It was just… there.
Sophie had lived in this town her whole life, but she had never seen anything like it. Her curiosity got the best of her as she stepped toward the house, her breath fogging in the crisp evening air.
There was no mailbox, no sign, nothing to indicate who owned it. But as she climbed the small steps to the porch, she saw something that made her pause.
A letter.
Taped to the door.
“For Sophie.”
Her pulse quickened. She turned, scanning the empty lot. Who had left this?
With hesitant fingers, she peeled the letter from the wood and opened it.
“Welcome home.”
A chill ran down her spine.
She had never been here before.
Had she?
The door creaked open on its own, revealing a warm, inviting glow inside. And against every logical thought in her mind, she stepped in.
The scent of cedar and something faintly familiar—vanilla, maybe—wrapped around her like an old memory. The furniture was rustic but elegant, with intricate carvings along the edges of the wooden tables. Books lined the walls, and a fireplace crackled softly in the corner.
It felt lived in.
It felt like hers.
Sophie turned back to the stained-glass window above the door, mesmerized by the way it glowed in the dim light. But as she stepped closer, her reflection flickered.
And for just a split second—
The woman staring back wasn’t her.
